


Welcome home

by Nyoun



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:13:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyoun/pseuds/Nyoun
Summary: "I'm fine.", the same lie everyday. But when he was home, Ten was not fine.
Kudos: 4





	Welcome home

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this fic at the moment I saw the choreagraphy of Ten and Winwin on Lovely. I needed to write it. It's about something I've experimented in the past and it's a way of letting go, with this song.  
> Be careful, this is about depression and there is a mention of ways to commit suicide.  
> Also, sorry for my bad english. I'm not fluent.
> 
> Lovely - Billie Eilish & Khalid : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1Pl8CzNzCw  
> Ten x Winwin choregraphy : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ovHSQwp1n0

He was awake but he didn’t move. He was stuck in his bed. He looked up at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world. It was grey. Ugly. Insipid. Just like his life. His thoughts were running through his head. He should have got up but he didn’t have the energy to. It was so hard. He felt pathetic. Why couldn’t he get up? Tears ran down his face. Rain was falling from his eyes. Why was he like that? He hated himself.

**_Something's on my mind_ **

**_Always in my head space_ **

He saw the time on his alarm clock. He could stay here today. Just today. He was almost late. But the guilt was already in his stomach. He wanted to throw up. So he stood up. One foot on the cold floor. Two feet on the cold floor. Chills on his spine.

He walked to the bathroom and put water on his face, to erase his pain. When he got up, his eyes met his eyes. He saw his face in the mirror. He looked like shit. That’s one of the reasons he avoided his reflection. His skin was too pale. The black circles around his eyes were too big. His lips were too damaged. His hair was too long. And it was only his face. He looked away, tired.

He put on random clothes from his floor and he took his bag before leaving his room.

**_Walking out of time_ **

**_Looking for a better place_ **

When he was outside he wore a mask. A happy mask. At least as happy as possible. He avoided people when he walked. He was in his bubble. He went from point A to point B without thinking. He arrived at University just in time. He sat at his usual place, next to his friends and he smiled. “I’m fine, and you?” was always his answer. He was used to lying. It was easier for everybody. 

**_Thought I found a way_ **

**_Thought I found a way out_ **

It was his solution to escape his reality in front of people. That day was like the others: he fought against himself to look normal. He tried to not arouse suspicion. He tried to not cry when life hit him. He was under the impression that he moved in slow motion but nobody said a thing. But maybe it was just the contrast with his thoughts moving at full speed. “I don’t belong here.” “What am I doing with my life?” “Who am I?” “I want to die.” On loop. All day. But he didn’t fall. Not yet. 

**_Oh, I hope someday I'll make it out of here_ **

**_Even if it takes all night or a hundred years_ **

He was tired of all these thoughts. He wanted that to stop. To be in peace. How could people live so easily when he was struggling like that? It was unfair. He wanted to be like them. What was wrong with him? He wanted to let go. He needed to let go. But he was surrounded by people and life. He was stuck. Again.

**_Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near_ **

**_Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear_ **

He wanted to go home. He wanted to be alone. One more hour. When the bell rang, he left. He said “Goodbye, see you tomorrow” even if he was not sure there will be a tomorrow for him. Sometimes he wished to be hit by a car. It will be easier. He wouldn’t have to do it himself. He was a coward. A coward who felt nothing. He was empty.

**_Heart made of glass, my mind of stone_ **

**_Tear me to pieces, skin to bone_ **

He was apathetic. No energy. No desire to live. He wanted the pain to go away. He wanted to sleep forever. No more problems. He had a list of ways to die in his head. Medication. Bridge. Hanging. Cutting veins open in the bath. Knife in the heart. Leaving with or without blood. Leaving without a word. He hadn't chosen the best way to leave yet. But he was going to have to, because the pain was stronger in his chest. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

**_But you never go away_ **

**_So I guess I gotta stay now_ **

When he came home, he went directly on his bed under the blanket. He curled up, his arms around his legs, like he wanted to take the least place possible. He looked so tiny. So fragile. So vulnerable. But he was safe here. He was himself. No mask. Just him and his depression. He was in her arms.

**_Hello, welcome home_ **

He didn’t remember since when he was in this situation. It just happened. He was a fucking disaster. One day, he forgot how to take care of himself. Eating. Taking a shower. Cleaning his house. Being happy. He didn’t know how to live anymore. He didn’t know why to live. He could no longer imagine the future or build projects. He was here, trying to survive and he never felt so lonely.

**_Isn't it lovely, all alone_ **

He was desperate to find a new home. A less harmful home. He had two options: the death home, full of darkness or the life home, full of hope. Which one? Which one? Which one? Two lights were fighting inside him. Rising up. Giving up. The two lights rolled up. One ate the other. Was it black? Was it white? Was it grey like the ceiling above him? Maybe he couldn’t see colors anymore. Maybe the ceiling was blue. Or was it the sky? He didn’t know. But he had made his decision. 

**_“Welcome home”_ ** he heard.


End file.
